


Percutian Keluarga

by R_S_B



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Maternal Feelings, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B
Summary: Philippa wants to take Michael out of her comfort zone. Some things go according to plan. Others don’t.





	Percutian Keluarga

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tin-can-spaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tin-can-spaceship).



> This is for the Trek Rare Pair Swap (round 24), for tin-can-spaceship, who requested Michael & Philippa, or Michael/Tilly. I love an excuse to write Pippa, so here we are...

Michael Burnham resisted the urge to tap her fingers impatiently on the window of the shuttle. She knew, intellectually… _logically_ , that there was no substantive justification for the anxiety she felt. But logic alone was inadequate to banish the nerves that had followed her since she’d left the _Shenzhou_. Taking a long breath, she closed her eyes and tried one of the Vulcan meditative techniques Sarek had taught her long ago.

In her mind, she visualized a turbulent ocean. The waves crashed violently, the representation of the emotions churning inside of her. As she breathed in and out, she took control, and the ocean slowly calmed. When the water was almost still, she felt a gentle hand on her arm and she opened her eyes.

“Michael, try to relax. This is a vacation, not an examination.”

Just a vacation. _Sure_.

* * *

Part of Michael’s apprehension was her lingering discomfort around human social gatherings. The other part, however, was her suspicion that Captain Georgiou was actually evaluating her as a part of deciding who was going to replace Commander Sonnisar ch’Theloh as first officer of the _Shenzhou_. A vacation to Malaysia wasn’t exactly a conventional job interview, but Michael had never considered Philippa Georgiou to be a conventional captain.

Her five years serving under Georgiou had taught her a lot. A lot about Starfleet, a lot about her own humanity, and a lot about the fantastic contradiction that was the woman that had become her mentor. Georgiou was as immovable as a rock, could be as composed as a Vulcan. But it wasn’t because of a lack of emotion. The woman embraced her humanity, her emotions, and they made her stronger, not weaker.

Of course, that had made it a challenging transition for Michael to go from the Vulcan Science Academy to the _Shenzhou_ , but she had quickly learned to appreciate Georgiou’s ways, and she aspired to be more like her mentor.

But that didn’t mean that Michael was at peace with her emotions. Aspiration was one thing. Reality was another.

* * *

The breeze was warm on Michael’s skin, bringing with it the scent of hibiscus and begonia. Langkawi was beautiful, which was no surprise. Michael knew it was a popular vacation destination for a reason. But there was something about it that surprised her. Michael had few memories of Earth, but there was something about it that just _felt_ right. The sun on her skin, the precise balance of oxygen and nitrogen in her lungs, the pressure of Earth’s gravity on her bones. It was comforting. _Relaxing_ , even.

Maybe she _would_ be able to enjoy this trip.

The captain stepped out from behind her, bag slung over her shoulder. She smiled. “Well, Michael, what do you think?”

Michael shrugged in a way so as to indicate the obviousness of the answer. “Beautiful.”

The other woman smiled, and was opening her mouth to respond when they were interrupted. Georgiou looked up, wind blowing long, dark her hair behind her, and her smile widened. “ _Sayang!_ ”

The woman walking towards them was only a hair taller than Georgiou, but she walked with the supreme self-possession of a queen. She had long black hair, thicker than Georgiou’s, hazel eyes, and a wide mouth. She was dressed in a black swimsuit, ruched to accentuate her curves, and a brightly colored sarong. When she spoke, Michael was surprised to hear such a low, gravelly voice come out of such a small woman.

“Pippa,” she breathed. The two embraced, exchanging a warm but brief kiss and Michael felt her cheeks flush. This was clearly a private moment that she had no business being present for. She desperately wished to leave, but guessed that moving would only draw attention to her. She stared at her feet and tried to remain as still as possible, imagining that she could blend into the background.

Georgiou stepped back and the woman in the swimsuit finally looked away from her and turned towards Michael. Michael’s cheeks flushed again and she stood up straighter. It took everything she had not to snap to full attention.

“Co-commodore Paris,” she managed. They'd never actually met, but Michael knew her by reputation and recognized her from news clips covering the tense negotiations that had taken place with the Sheliak the prior year. Paris had been instrumental in finalizing the Treaty of Armens. Michael knew vaguely that she and Georgiou were in a relationship, but it somehow hadn’t occurred to her that she would be here.

But Paris just laughed. “Please, Michael,” she said, reaching for Michael’s hand, “while we are here, you can call me Afsaneh.”

Michael nodded but couldn’t actually imagine following through on the implied promise. Paris let go of her hand and Michael decided that an extended job interview would be vastly superior to multiple days of socializing with superior officers, especially if there were going to be further displays of affection.

Paris looked between them. “I was just about to go swimming, if you’d like to join.”

Georgiou smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Michael?”

Michael’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. “No,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean, no thank you. I think I’d just like to get settled and then meditate before bed.”

Georgiou looked at her skeptically, and Michael felt like the woman could see into her soul. “Are you sure? The night is young, Michael!”

But Michael demurred, and thankfully Georgiou didn’t push. As Michael unpacked her things in the guest bedroom of Georgiou’s family home, she wondered just what she’d gotten herself into by agreeing to this trip.

* * *

The following morning, Michael awoke refreshed. The smell of coffee wafted from downstairs and the smell of the sea came in through her window. She showered quickly and dressed for the outdoors. After hearing about the hiking and rock climbing Michael had done on Vulcan, Georgiou had suggested a hike and Michael found she was looking forward to it.

Downstairs, Michael helped herself to a cup of coffee and sat down at the small table where Georgiou and Paris were already sitting.

“You should come, Afsaneh,” Georgiou was saying. “It will be fun.”

Paris waved a hand dismissively. “I have a book I've been dying to read, and I finally have the time to do so. You two go enjoy wearing yourselves out. I'll be sitting on the beach reading and enjoying myself just fine. But if you are lucky, maybe I'll have some dinner ready for you when you get back.”

Georgiou turned in Michael’s direction. “You _must_ try Afsaneh’s cooking, it’s delightful.”

“Of course,” Michael agreed. “I'd love to,” she added with a smile she hoped looked genuine. Her Vulcan training meant she often came off as standoffish to humans, and her nerves weren't helping the situation. She generally tried to compensate, but it was a fine line between seeming uninterested and seeming phony.

Georgiou seemed satisfied. “Great.” Then standing up, “Let’s go, I’ve got some protein bars packed. We can eat on the road.”

* * *

Michael soon realized that while Georgiou had packed a number of important supplies, including water and food and a first aid kit, she had not bothered with other things Michael considered equally important.

“No communicators?”

Philippa stood at the foot of the trail, boots stirring the sandy dirt, and turned to smile at Michael. “We don’t need communicators, Michael. Not for this.”

Michael pursed her lips in exasperation and fought the impulse to roll her eyes. “No? We could get lost! Injured!”

“It’s healthy, don’t you think? To get away from all of it sometimes. To depend on yourself.” She looked at Michael. “Your team.” She turned back and began to walk up the trail. “Everyone needs a little challenge, Michael. A little risk!”

“That is… illogical.”

Georgiou just laughed. Shaking her head, Michael followed after her.

An hour into the hike, Michael was feeling the high of the endorphins coursing through her veins. The hike was challenging enough to get the blood pumping, to feel the burn in her muscles, but not nearly so challenging that she couldn’t enjoy the splendid scenery. And Georgiou was a wealth of knowledge about the local fauna and flora. As they went, she pointed out interesting, useful, or simply particularly beautiful plants. Told stories about how the local wildlife had evolved to thrive on the island. Michael found it exceedingly pleasant. As they climbed higher, the sun likewise rose higher in the sky, but the leafy canopy protected them from the worst of the heat.

Then it happened.

Georgiou was stepping carefully between some tree roots when a shallow, rotted out root gave way just underneath the surface. Her foot dropped about five centimeters lower than expected and her foot twisted inwards. Michael watched helplessly as she tried to regain her balance, but she had too much momentum. She fell forward, foot caught in the roots, and Michael heard something pop.

Michael winced as Georgiou hit the ground hard, unable to break her fall. “Philippa!” she gasped, rushing as fast as she could to her side.

When she got there, Georgiou had curled in on herself, her face a mask of pain, clutching her lower leg tightly, knee pulled up to her chest. She was pale, unnaturally so and her eyes struggled to focus on Michael. She blinked and tried to right herself, reaching for Michael’s arm. “Help me up.”  

Michael hesitated for a moment, then slid an arm under Georgiou’s shoulder and around her waist. She started to stand, pulling Georgiou up, but she didn’t get far. As soon as the smaller woman tried to get her foot under her, she cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. Michael dropped with her, trying to slow her fall, but she was only partially successful. Georgiou slipped from her arms, grimacing as she hit the ground.

When Georgiou tried to sit up again, she slumped back into Michael’s arms almost immediately. Michael laid her down, lowering her gently to the ground. “Ca--captain. Are you okay?”

Georgiou turned towards her, eyes blinking. “I’m… okay. I’m… _ow_.” She winced again.

“Well, I think you broke something. So yes, ‘ow’.”

Georgiou ignored her, squeezing her leg experimentally, testing her pain response. When she got close to her ankle, she cried out and stopped. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes as Michael dropped her pack to the ground and began to rummage through it. “Okay, I’ve got some painkillers. This should feel more manageable soon.” Georgiou nodded silently. She winced slightly as Michael pressed the automatic hypospray to her neck.

After a few seconds, Georgiou opened her eyes. She took a deep breath, then another, then she looked at Michael.

“Feeling better?”

She smiled thinly, still obviously uncomfortable. But she at least looked like she wasn’t going to pass out. “Yes, thank you, Michael.”

“Do you think you can sit up?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” she quipped. Michael rolled her eyes but helped her up, and this time Georgiou was able to hold herself up. Michael felt a brief rush of relief, followed by a lingering dread. Numbing the pain wasn’t going to help them walk down the mountain.

Michael felt the frustration building inside her. “It would be a good time to have a communicator right now,” she muttered.

To her surprise, Georgiou started laughing. “I suppose it would. But we’ll be okay.”

“Oh really? And just how do you propose we get back down the mountain? We can’t call for help.”

“I thought that would have been obvious. You’re going to carry me.”

* * *

It was a _damned_ good thing the captain was small.

Michael liked to think that she was in good physical condition. She may not be Vulcan, but she'd trained hard to get the most she could out of the body she'd been born with. But she wasn't the tallest, strongest person, not even for humans. She simply wasn't. And carrying the captain’s weight was one thing, but carrying it down a mountain was another.

As it was, they had to stop frequently. Michael would set Georgiou down gently, avoiding connecting the other woman's ankle against anything as much as possible. They'd have a small snack and rehydrate if necessary, Michael would rest her weary muscles, and then they'd be on their way.

It was very slow going.

“She must be worried about you by now.” Even though they were only half-way back, it was long past when they should have returned.

“She? My wife?”

“Yes. I... guess I didn't know you were married.” Michael was suddenly acutely aware of how little she knew about her captain. Or at least how big the gaps were in her knowledge.

“Ah. Yes.”

The two fell silent again, Michael focusing her breathing. Her muscles were straining and she was trying to keep her emotions in check. Somehow she knew this was her fault. She'd let her captain get injured on a mission. She should have forced the communicator issue. This whole expedition was reckless, illogical. She hated the thought that she’d let Georgiou down. Surely Saru would never let anything like this happen. And even if he had, he'd have been strong enough to get her down the mountain much faster.

She could just imagine his face when he heard about all this. The thought put her stomach in angry, shameful knots. She wanted to wipe the sweat from her brow, but her arms were looped under Georgiou’s legs.

“Michael, you should really relax more. Stop and smell the roses.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up incredulously and she was glad Georgiou couldn’t see her face. “Sorry I’m not able to be as relaxed as you apparently are,” she bit out.

“Why not?” came Georgiou’s innocently oblivious reply.

“I'm carrying you!” The words burst from her forcefully, but Georgiou just laughed and Michael stopped walking. “You're teasing me.”

“Yes, Michael. It's so easy!”

Michael sighed and started back down the mountain. Saru was getting that promotion for sure. What a miserable failure she was. She never should have agreed to go on this vacation.

“Do you need to stop, Michael?”

“I'm fine,” Michael grunted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she bit out.

“It won't do either of us any good if you overexert yourself.”

And now Georgiou didn't trust her. _Great_. Michael didn't bother responding, she just kept walking.

“Set me down.” Georgiou’s voice was suddenly hard, tone leaving no room for discussion. Michael seethed internally at the use of her command voice, but set her down immediately. Georgiou rubbed her calf and looked up at Michael. “What's bothering you?” Her voice was softer now and Michael sighed.

“This was a bad idea.” Georgiou just stared at her and waited. Michael didn't look at her. “The hike. Not taking a communicator. Maybe this whole trip.”

Georgiou pursed her lips and tilted her head at Michael. “But then how would I get to know my new First Officer?”

Michael's head popped up. “Your--what?”

“My new First Officer. Why did you think I invited you here?”

It took several moments for Michael to process what she was hearing. She finally sighed. “Well, I thought it might be a test.”

Georgiou laughed. “I can see how you might have come to that conclusion. But no. I have already made my decision.”

Michael smiled hesitantly and sat down next to her. “Well, thank you. I… didn’t realize. Obviously. I hope you aren’t reconsidering.”

Georgiou chuckled. “Hardly.”

“But I messed up.”

“No one messed up. Sometimes things just happen. Nothing goes right all the time. The goal can’t be to avoid mistakes completely, but to learn how to deal with them. And that’s what you are doing right now. Maybe with more angst and self-doubt than necessary. But you are.”

Michael let out a breath through her nose and chuckled bemusedly to herself. “Well then, let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit!

* * *

“Luckily, it's a clean break. We’ll reknit the bone, put you in a boot, and send you off with something for the pain.”

The medical tech said this with a reassuring smile and a pat on her (uninjured) leg and Georgiou nodded and thanked him. He excused himself from the examination room to retrieve the necessary equipment, and Michael, relieved, moved towards the examination bed. The gleaming white of the transit station’s small first aid center was jarring after a day in the wilderness. Her skin was gritty with dirt and dried sweat and her muscles screamed from hours of exertion, the opposite of the pristine surfaces surrounding them, but in that moment she was too tired and too relieved to be bothered by it. “I’m glad to hear it will be relatively easy to fix.”

Georgiou nodded. “Thank you for everything you did today.”

Michael hesitated for a second, an ‘it was nothing’ dying on her lips. She smiled. “Of course. Any time.”

Georgiou leaned back, taking Michael’s hand in hers and closing her eyes. In the quiet room, staring down at their clasped hands, the lingering question in Michael's head began to assert itself. “Why did you choose me?”

Georgiou's eyes didn't open. “I think your qualifications speak for themselves. And besides,” she said, one eye opening to look at Michael. “I like you.”

Michael flushed, unused to such open admissions of affection. She remembered receiving them from her human parents, but those memories were old and vague. They felt more like wishes than faithful recollections. And of course she’d never received anything of the kind from Sarek. She’d ignored and suppressed her longing for such approval and affection for years she'd almost convinced herself it wasn't there. Receiving it so openly and easily now hit her like a physical blow.

“Okay,” the medical tech began, stepping back into the room. “We should have everything we need. Let's get that shoe off.”

Michael dropped Philippa's hand and stepped back to give him room to work.

* * *

After that, it was just a short ride from the transit station to Philippa's home. Paris ran down the front steps as they walked up, pulling Philippa into a tight hug. Between the boot and the painkillers, she was able to walk again, but she leaned on Paris gratefully. Paris pulled back and took Philippa's face in her hands. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? I was so worried.”

“I'm fine,” Philippa demurred. “All I need is to sit down and put my feet up. And perhaps a glass of wine.”

Paris grinned and chuckled. “I think I can help with that.” She stroked Philippa’s cheek affectionately then turned to Michael, who had been hanging back.

Michael wondered if she should leave. This was a private moment. For family.

“ _Michael_ ,” she cooed, stepping away from Philippa and reaching out towards her. She stepped forward and took Michael by the shoulders, then her face softened and she pulled Michael into a hug. Her voice was soft and low and warm. “Thank you for taking care of her.” Michael was too startled for a moment to respond, then she returned the hug gratefully.

She repeated the same words she’d given Philippa. “Of course. Any time. _Afsaneh_.”

Afsaneh smiled, then turned to glare at Philippa. “Good. Because Pippa here likes to get in trouble sometimes. Someone with a good head on her shoulders needs to keep her in line. Not taking a communicator!” She shook her head in disbelief.

Michael chuckled despite herself and Afsaneh winked at her.

“Now,” she began, taking both Philippa and Michael by the arms, “I still have dinner in stasis. You both _must_ be starving.”

As they walked into the cozy house, Afsaneh fussing over Philippa’s foot as she pulled out dinner and wine, Michael felt an odd contentment wash over her. It took a little while for her to realize what it was.

Then it hit her.

_This is what family feels like._

**Author's Note:**

> The title, “Percutian Keluarga,” means “family vacation” in Malay (at least based on some googling, I am painfully far from being an expert, so if there’s a better way to translate this, please let me know). But the idea is that the reader doesn’t know what that means when they start reading the story (unless they speak Malay). They don’t know what this is about. They don’t know what they are getting into. Even though the information is technically there, if only they were capable of understanding it.
> 
> And neither did Michael.


End file.
